first loves are forever
by glb-03
Summary: "He's my first love and first loves are forever." Short glimpses into the past, present, and future of what everyone knew was doomed from the start. The quarterback and the head cheerleader, Finn Hudson and Quinn Fabray.
1. introduction

Quinn has always known she's a good actress; she's performed in plays since she could walk, since she could memorize the lines. She may have never gotten the lead—_you were too fat, too ugly, that's why_—but she's confident in her ability to act like someone she's not, to _be_ someone she's not.

It's how she can strut down these hallways like she owns them even though she's cowering on the inside. How she can force herself to wear this too-short skirt even though her mind is screaming that her thighs are _huge_. How she can walk up to the newest football team recruit and introduce herself.

Quinn knows the plastic surgery has done its job well when he stares at her dumbly for a second. Quinn's not vain of her new beauty—_okay, she might be, whatever, she deserves it after all this time_—but she admits that she can go toe-to-toe with the other Cheerios in the beauty department.

"Hey, Finn right?" Quinn smiles and tilts her head to the side like she sees all the pretty girls do.

There's a long pause as he takes her in. "Ugh—_yeah_, Finn. I'm Finn. Hudson. Finn Hudson."

There's something oddly adorable about this bumbling boy in front of her and Quinn feels her smile grow a bit wider. "It's nice to meet you, Finn Hudson. I'm Quinn Fabray."

"It's nice to meet you too." There's a long pause and she can tell he's searching for something to say. Finally, he blurts out, "We match."

Of all things he could have said, _this_ is certainly the most confusing. "Like… clothes-wise? Are you color blind?"

There's a furrow between his eyebrows and Quinn shouldn't find his confusion so… _cute_, but she can't deny that she does. "Um. Not that I know of. I could be, though, I've never really thought about it... I can't tell the difference between black and navy sometimes. Is that color blind? Or just… a guy thing?"

"I think it's more of a… guy thing," Quinn replies, smile brilliant and tongue shyly peeking out between her perfect, white teeth. "So it _wasn't_ about the clothes?"

"Oh. No. Our names, is what I meant." Finn smiles at her. "They match."

"They do, don't they?" Quinn bites her bottom lip in the most disarming way she can manage. "So my friends and I—you know Santana and Brittany, right?—we're going to Breadstix tonight and I was wondering if you'd like to come with us?"

"Just us four?" Finn's smile twitches suddenly into a frown.

"You can bring a friend, if you want," Quinn allows and she wonders if all boys are this easy to enrapture. Maybe it's just a Finn thing. She dislikes the thought of just _any_ girl being able to make him act this way, though, so she amends it into a _Finn and Quinn_ thing. She admits that she could get used to the joining of their names.

"How about… two?" he asks, trying to play it cool, which is hopelessly _un-_cool but oh so charming.

Quinn smirks at him. "Are you trying to turn this _harmless_ get-together of friends into a triple date, Finn? How cunning of you."

He just stares at her. She sighs at his fish-out-of-water appearance.

"Now that I think about it, though, a triple date _is_ acceptable." Quinn's smirk only grows cockier. "As long as _we_ are paired up, of course. Our names do match, after all."

Finn sputters. "Um. Yeah, that'd be great—."

"See you later, Hudson." Quinn smiles at him over her shoulder for just a moment before looking forward again, walking confidently away. "Be there at eight sharp! I don't accept tardiness from my dates."

She doesn't look back but she's almost positive that he's frozen to the spot.


	2. running

Most people don't realize how absolutely and infinitely unhappy she is. Quinn puts on a good show, she knows she does, and she doesn't blame most people for not _seeing_. But it's when they don't _care_, that is what hurts Quinn the most. Quinn doesn't think she can stand one more person not caring—_or maybe it's that she can't stand that he_ _doesn't care—_so she runs. She runs and runs and runs until her lungs feel as though they will burst and her feet skid heavily across the ground in exhaustion. She slumps onto a bench and breathes in heavy, aching breaths for what feels like hours.

And then she looks up.

And it is _his_ face staring back at her. She has not noticed but it is Finn's house across the street and he is looking out at her from his bedroom window.

Quinn doesn't process that he looks sad—_face dark with regret_—but only that she is seeing him again for the first time in months and it is as acutely agonizing as she thought it would be, only worse. Because he is seeing her like _this_. This sad, sweaty lump of a girl who he probably can barely recall was _his_ once—_or maybe he just doesn't want to admit that you were his and he was yours and he misses that, misses you_.

They both stare for a long time before Finn drops his heated gaze—_an intensity that only she has ever been able to procure_—and when he looks back up after a few moments, he is smiling goofily and waving.

Before she even realizes that she is moving, Quinn is standing before his front door and knocking. When she comes back to herself, she stares at her hand like it isn't her own—_does her body know something her mind does not or maybe it is something she doesn't want to know?_—before contemplating whether it would be best to run away now or act her way through it like she does with everything else.

But Finn is answering the door now—_and it really is Finn and she's missed him so much and_—and he seems to be struck dumb by shock.

Seeing his face—_the arches and plains and dips that her fingers have memorized a thousand times_—allows the flood gates to open for the first time in what she knows was a very long drought.

"I _loved_ you." Finn's face freezes in shock and he opens his mouth to—_say he's sorry, say he still loves her, say anything to avoid this excruciating moment of regret_—reply but she cuts him off coldly. "I loved you and you spit on it, on everything we had, on _me_. You broke my heart and I'm not sure if I can _ever_ get over that. You spent our whole relationship pining after someone else. You're an _asshole and you don't get to wave at me like an idiot_!"

She stops herself with a sudden gasp of air and then she is crying and this is so, so embarrassing—_and exactly what she needs_— and she feels rather than sees Finn trying to figure out what to do. Finally, he seems to think it would be a wonderful idea to hug her—_he knows it's not but he can't see her like this without wanting to touch her, to comfort her_—and she slaps his hands away.

"Don't you _understand_?" her voice breaks. "You can't be nice to me. You can't try to wave at me, or smile at me, or _hug_ me. _Because I can't take that_. I can't only have parts of you when all I want is _everything_, the whole fucking thing even though you make me insane. I just—I _can't_, okay?"

"I—I understand, Quinn," Finn replies lamely, staring at his shuffling feet the whole time. "I'm _so_ sorry… I just wanted to be friends like we were in freshman year, before we started dating. I get that you don't want to be though; I really was an—an _asshole_, like you said. And we probably both need some time, anyway."

Quinn doesn't smile, only nods to show him that she understands that he understands and she really needs to leave before she does something stupid like kiss him—_and, oh, that image will haunt her_—but he grabs her hand. "Are you… are you doing okay though?"

Quinn almost laughs. Because he doesn't really understand at all, does he? "No, I'm not going to be okay for a very long time, Finn. That's sort of why I was running, that's _why_ I had to say those things to you. I'm not going to be okay—and that's mostly your fault, remember?—_and I don't want to be friends_. Do you hear me now, Finn? Can you see me for the mess that I really am? Aren't you _blissfully_ happy that you got away when you had the chance?"

He stares at her for a long time and she drinks up every second of his eyes' warm embrace because it is all she will have for a long, long time. Finally, and it is only in the form of a breathy murmur, he speaks. "No. No, I'm not."

She runs again—_from his regret and longing and the love guarded so carefully in his eyes that she can barely see it… but they both know it's still there._


End file.
